


Midnight escapade

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confrontations, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, no beta we die like men, rated T because lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28431780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Semi deals with getting replaced by throwing himself into an onslaught of self-training. On the other hand, a late-night stroll leads Shirabu chancing upon Semi practicing jump serves at twelve am. Their confrontation goes about as well as a car collision.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Midnight escapade

**Author's Note:**

> Creds to Possumel for the idea of Semi overworking himself and Shirabu confronting him! I honestly had fun writing this and can only hope it's an enjoyable read as well :D

Semi’s replacement was slow, subtle, unnoticeable unless you squinted hard. It probably began a whole term earlier when Washijo decided to swap Shirabu in for half a set longer in practice matches. Half a set eventually turned into a full set, then two, then three, and before he knew it, he was nothing more than the pinch server. The feeling was bitter as gall, festering deep within his gut, slowly encroaching his entire being like a living parasite. 

It wasn’t because Shirabu was his junior. Okay, maybe that did constitute a small part of his rage but it wasn’t _just_ that. It was the fact that he had a goddamn sports scholarship and he was _replaced_ by someone with an academic scholarship. A fucking academic scholarship. Now that would still be all fine and dainty except for the fact that the brat didn’t seem happy at all with his achievement. It was almost as if he felt entitled to it. The audacity.

His coach didn’t even bother to spare him a glance, much less an explanation as he pinned the final first string lineup on the noticeboard before leaving wordlessly. Semi stared at the sheet for a moment too long, his gaze locking in on his name before trailing upwards.

_Pinch server - Semi Eita._

_S_ _etter - Shirabu Kenjirou._

The words gazed back, bold, black, unwavering as though they were mocking him. A tense silence settled, thick as a blanket, as the rest of the team noted their positions one by one. Semi glanced at Shirabu while the boy studied the roster. Not a smile, not even a nod. He simply blinked once, twice, and walked away. His footsteps were light, pace languid, shoulders dipped in an elegant gradient as he disappeared to the locker rooms. If Semi wasn’t tasting bitter on his tongue, he would have noticed the boy’s poised beauty, perhaps marveled at him a heartbeat longer, taking in his delicate grace. But his fingers were curled into tight fists, red threatening to spill into his vision, rage growling in tune with his pulse. Thus, he walked away. Silently, seethingly.

Eventually, Semi figured that if he couldn’t be the main setter, he’d damn well be the best pinch server there ever was. His self training started slow; perhaps ten, twenty minutes tops of staying back after regular training. Then, he started training on non-training days. First an hour, then two and eventually, he begun training the nights before those off days as well. However, his roommate Tendou, sharp as ever, caught on.

“Semisemi!” The redhead exclaimed, making a point to drag the cursed nickname out. “Where are you going, it’s late~” 

Semi froze, fingers hovering over the doorknob as he spun round to find the middle blocker lazily glancing at him from his bed. Scrambling to find an excuse that wasn’t training, he blurted. “A date?”

“Ho? A date?” Tendou repeated, his lips curling into a cheshire grin. “In your volleyball outfit?”

“She uh…” Semi backed up against the door, hands grasping the handle, ready to make a bolt for it if Tendou tried to stop him. “She has a thing for volleyball jerseys.”

Tendou laughed, sharp and maniacal but not at all unpleasant. “Sure, sure, have fun on your _lovely_ date Eita~.” Pausing, the boy feigned a pensive demeanor for a brief moment before continuing in the same sing-song tone. “Ah, but our little Shirabooboo would be sooo disappointed~”

Semi felt a frown pull at the edges of his lips, brows furrowing in confusion. A pang of unknown sentiments weighed heavy at the mention of the younger setter. “Shirabu?”

The redhead merely hummed lightly, chin tilted back, eyes closed as his head swayed to the tune. “Just a little something I’ve noticed~” Sobering up, Tendou glanced at Semi, his sharp features conforming to a much more serious expression, scarlet irises aglow as if staring straight into his soul. “But seriously, I know what you’re doing Eita.” His voice growled low, void of any amusement. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

Semi could only muster up a nod as he clumsily made his way outside. Inhaling a breath of crisp winter air, he turned and hurriedly stalked away.

“No promises.”

\-------

Sleep never came easy for Shirabu. He always had a long list of things to worry about: keeping his scholarship, meeting his parent’s expectations, maintaining his reputation, etcetera etcetera. And by etcetera etcetera, he really just means making sure no one knows he likes Semi Eita. This particular crush was beyond embarrassing; it was straight up shameful. Heck, said boy probably despised Shirabu for stealing his position because Semi was petty like that. At least, that’s what Shirabu’d like to think because he had to have _some_ flaw right? Perfectly windswept hair, jacked figure, kind demeanor albeit easy to piss off in Shirabu’s case. The brunette sighed long and hard, his breath filtering through clenched teeth.

Tonight seemed to be another sleepless night. Shirabu lay motionless, listening to the mechanical whirr of the heater, wishing for the sweet embrace of sleep but finding none. His gaze darted between vague silhouettes in a futile search for light. The blanket was too warm and the room too cold. A leg out of the covers did little to quell his building restlessness. _That’s it,_ he thought. In a swift motion, the brunette tossed his blanket aside and descended from his top bunk. Soundless as cats, he maneuvered to the door, closing it with a soft click. 

The view was glorious. Shadows of a barren canopy stretched toward the darkened horizon, shrouding the barrier between the heavens and the earth. Skeletal trees gleamed beneath the ashen tint of moonlight as sequin silver stars littered onyx dyed skies like diamonds sewn onto black silk. Shirabu stared at the flecks of sterling silver and the veil of overcast onyx, transfixed by its magnificence but reminded of a boy. The boy whose hair was like night; moonlight grey dipped in ink. His molten chocolate eyes like spheres of autumn dyed sepia, his personality burning brighter than the heart of an inferno. And boy did Shirabu love to play with fire.

Shaking his head, he forced the unwanted train of thoughts away with a curt _stupid_ . Letting out a harsh exhale, he gripped the icy railings, feeling the chilly winter winds comb through his locks. At the corner of his vision, he saw the gym lights still on, luminescent yellow chasing away the night time gloom like a lighthouse perched in the midst of a black sea. _That can’t be right._ Shirabu squinted a little harder, unable to catch a glimpse of anything through the small windows. _Probably a stupid basketballer who forgot to turn off the lights._ Brushing it off, he headed for ground floor, ready to aimlessly roam the school compound until exhaustion seeped in. That was when he heard it - the unmistakable rhythm of a jump serve. Three steady beats, a pause, followed by the resounding thud of a palm contacting the ball. _No, it can’t be._ Picking up his pace, Shirabu began to jog toward the gym. The unmistakable tempo repeated again, louder this time. _He can’t possibly be that dumb, it’s twelve fucking am._ Shirabu caught a flicker of grey soar past the window and that was all it took for him to start sprinting.

He reached the gym a few moments later, pausing at the door frame. Semi stood on the other end of the court, face scrunched in concentration, damp shirt pressed against his torso, volleyball clutched in his hand. Once again, he tossed the ball high, tongue glazing over his lip as he took three strides before leaping. The splendor of a sunrise could not compare. His muscles were pulled taut, more sculpted than statues. His form was perfect; a single arm outstretched while the other curled back. And the boy soared like an eagle taking flight. Shirabu could hear his pulse in his ears, breath slipping away silently as he simply stared in awe, enticed by his every motion.

The ball propelled forward, fast as a bullet, crushing against the ground before bouncing high. Shirabu sprang into motion, his lean frame zipping through the air as he leaped, fingers gently enclosing around the ball before landing. A tense hush fell between the two so thick it could be sliced by a blade. Shirabu glanced up, catching Semi’s expression morph from confusion to shock to anger. His lips were curled into a scowl as his brows knitted ever so slightly. Shirabu took a step forward. Semi folded his arms. There was something about his posture and the sheer hostility of it all that weighed his heart heavy. But the brunette refused to acknowledge that or any other hurt born from stupid feelings and stupid crushes. Shirabu continued to tread forward, his pace slow, an apathetic expression plastered on his face.

“Semi-san, it’s late. You shouldn’t be training now.” His tone was indifferent, containing none of the immense concern he hid behind his facade. Naturally, the reply he got was cold, icy, venomous.

“This is none of your business.”

Shirabu raised a brow and stepped closer, feigning disapproval though the other’s words cut deep. “It _is_ my business. We can’t afford to have you injured. Not when spring high is so close.”

Semi scoffed, sarcasm oozing into his tone. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say.” 

“I’m serious. You’re a valuable player, you should know better than to do this.”

The boy’s lips curled almost menacingly, his voice dipping an octave lower. “You don’t get it, do you?” He paused, letting a deafening silence drag as he sighed. “Whatever, go back to being the pretty boy that everyone loves, just leave me alone.”

He felt his heart stutter at the implication of Semi’s words but he continued to press. “Semi-san, what’s this about?”

“Like I said, none of your business.”

“Overworking yourself will be counterproductive. You should be resting now.”

“It’s my own private time, I get to do what I want. Stop being such a nosy brat and get out.”

Shirabu would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart clench painfully. His composure faltered ever so slightly, taken aback by the malice laced in Semi’s words. Forcing his tone even, he spoke, ignoring the building lump at the back of his throat. “You need to stop. I’ll help you pack up.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You and I both know you’ve got better things to do than waste your time here.”

“No, I don’t. I can’t stand by and watch you get hurt like this.”

“Then just leave.”

“Don’t be so stubborn.”

“Why do you care?” His question was sharp, gritted through clenched jaws, dripping with spite.

“Why wouldn’t I care?” Shirabu practically shouted as he unconsciously stepped forward, internally cussing at the way his tone wavered.

He caught the way Semi’s bottom lip quiver ever so slightly, eyes widening to reveal beautiful spheres of umber. But when he spoke, his tone was harsh and accusatory, slicing through stilled air like a blade through butter. “Because you don’t care about anything! You don't care about making the team. You don't care about becoming the main setter, so why would you give a shit about this? About me? Are you here to rub it in my face? Is that what this is?” The boy leaned in, roughly fisting the fabric above his chest. “If that’s the case you can fuck off.”

Shirabu simply stared, dead silent, hot tears trailing down the hollow of his cheeks against his control. He bit down hard on his tongue, hoping to quell the festering ache in his chest but to no avail. Pathetic. Shirabu brought his palm up to grasp Semi’s wrist in defiance as he spat, his voice teetering on breaking. “You don’t know me well enough to say I don’t care, Eita.” In a swift motion, he pulled Semi’s hand away, palm still clutching his wrist. “Because I fucking care.” More tears welled, threatening to spill. “Obviously I wanted to be the main setter because I love volleyball and I love playing with such a strong team.” Shirabu slowly let Semi go with a soft curse. “But I wanted your recognition more than that.”

He saw Semi freeze in place, clearly taken aback, his expression now void of anger, simply replaced by shock. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s late, ignore what I said. Let’s pack up and sleep.” Shirabu turned away, not wanting to continue the conversation and begin to stalk off but stopped when Semi grasped his hand. 

“Kenjirou, what do you mean?”

Shirabu hated the way his heart fluttered yet throbbed achingly at the mention of his first name; hated the way he spun round as if on command; hated the way he found himself lost in hues of beautiful midnight grey and molten chocolate. But as he stared, he found no malice in Semi’s expression, just confliction and uncertainty.

“Are you that stupid or do you need me to spell it out for you?”

Semi fell silent, lips falling ajar as he stared at the boy before him. The boy he thought he hated, the boy he thought was competition, the boy he once saw as nothing more than a pretty picture. Now, he couldn’t look away. Shirabu’s porcelain complexion gleamed beneath a sheen of tears, his hazel fringe dipped to his brows in a perfectly gentle gradient, his eyes containing all the hues of a sepia dyed sunrise. Semi wondered how someone could be so detestably _perfect._

So he leaned in and kissed Shirabu as if it was the most natural thing to do. And it was anything but gentle. Their lips pressed with the force of a collision, driven by his pent up ferocity and confliction. An arm round his delicate waist, fingers roughly fisting caramel locks. His motions were swift, vicious, tongue flickering in as though fueled by raw, savage instinct. Because if he was going to kiss Shirabu, he was going to _fucking_ ruin him. Teeth clashed, blood trickled but Semi didn’t pull back.

Shirabu found himself drowning as though he was a mere leaf swept up in a tempest. Too stubborn to pull away, too prideful to make a sound, he lashed back. He mimicked Semi’s movements and mirrored his aggression. Palms pressed against his back, fire burning in his chest. Amidst the cold embrace of winter, all he could perceive was Eita. Brutal, uncertain, yet glorious like an inferno. He tasted iron on his tongue, metallic and bitter, pain trickling like sparks of electricity. Against his will, he let out a whimper, sharp and docile.

Semi pulled away harshly as Shirabu stumbled back, clearing his throat. _Fuck that was pathetic,_ he thought, still trying to find his voice. When he spoke, he forced a harsh tone though his mind was still reeling in shock.

“What the _fuck_ was that. I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t- I do-... Fuck!” Semi exclaimed, palms clutching his head as he stalked to a side.

Shirabu followed suit, cornering Semi against a wall. “Eita, what do you want.”

“I don’t fucking know Kenjirou.” Semi let out a frustrated sigh, his expression morphing into one of confusion as his gaze locked on Shirabu. “Just…” Another sigh. “Fuck you.” he spat.

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

“Do what?”

Shirabu raised his forearm and pressed it against Semi’s chest, pinning him against the wall. His pulse picked up, heartbeats hammering against his chest, desire seeping into his expression.

“Fuck me.”

Semi’s lips fell ajar, eyes widened, rosy hues dusting his cheeks. When he spoke, his voice was soft, and for once, uncertain. “Here?”

“No you pea brained idiot, we’ll just do it in my dorm and bake some popcorn for Kawanishi while we’re at it. Obviously here.”

Semi clicked his tongue. “Such a brat.” But behind those locked doors and dimmed lights, he complied.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank you so much for reading. I'm so sorry I can't end it right because I really can't write nsfw but I hope it was still entertaining nonetheless ;-; Been experimenting with different writing styles and would love to hear critique/comments on how to improve and I appreciate any kudos as well! Till next time!


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